The Magnolia Trees
by homeranger
Summary: Trees burn down and we learn to live in the ashes. ShikaTema AU.
1. Prologue

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Naruto.

* * *

Prologue

I don't know what to talk about when I talk about Temari. To tell you the truth, the only thing that remains of her in my memory is the way her hand felt in my hand, in my hair, on my chest. The first thing I forgot was the way her voice sounded. Then, I lost her laugh. Eventually, I started to lose her face. Now when I try to picture her green eyes, her slightly crooked nose, her four blonde pigtails, I see her outline and a big black smudge right over her face. It's not totally opaque, but someday it will be.

I try to tell myself that none of it matters. Temari was just a woman, albeit a particularly troublesome one, and she left my life as quickly and explosively as she came into it. I tell myself that it was too long ago, that it isn't worth thinking about, that in exactly one hour I will forget all about her and let myself fall asleep without wishing for her skin on my skin.

I lie to myself a lot more than I used to.

It's been twenty years, and society doesn't wait for sad men, so I go about my days as expected. I plant flowers, I eat lunch, I try not to think about Temari. Sometimes, this is successful, but then I look at a hydrangea or smell a daffodil or see a blonde girl with slim hips, and I always want them to be her but they never are. The funny thing is that I love blondes, but looking at them gives me a jolt of pain right through the gut.

I wish I had written about Temari sooner, while she was still fresh in my mind and not a black smudge of ink, but I didn't. This is only one in a lifelong series of wrongs. I don't deny that I am a lazy piece of shit a lot of the time, but I would have written these words a thousand times over if I thought I could keep her scent for one more hour. Maybe this is my last effort before I forget her completely. Is that better? Do I want to forget her? It would certainly make my life easier, but I can't shake the empty hole that creeps into my stomach at the thought.

One day the black smoke covering her face will cover everything and I won't be able to see through it. I've known this for a while now. Temari loved me, and here I am forgetting her more every day even when I promised to remember.

This one is for you, Temari. I owe you this much.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I always liked plants. Plants are easy. Plants don't nag, or ask why your chores aren't done, or care if you want to lie on a hill and look at clouds all day. Plants get it. The world moves too fast sometimes, and on those days you want to slow down and see what the sky looks like. That's all plants ever do, really. Notice the way things are.

It was early on a Tuesday, the sun just beginning to burn away the fog, and I was wearing an apron at the front desk of my father's flower shop with several textbooks open in front of me. My parents needed the help and I needed to study. This was our agreement: they would pay my university fees if I helped out in the shop a couple days per week. I told them fine, but they have to let me do my homework there. You don't get a botany degree by explaining the difference between annuals and perennials to the ill-informed.

Not that I didn't like the shop. I always loved it there, despite the constant annoyance of my mother's nagging. When I was a kid, my father used to walk me around and tell me what all the flowers were. He would point out interesting features like the shape of the leaves or the length of the stem and tell me how to identify each type. Even when I was young, I could tell our customers exactly which flower was which, my father smiling gently with pride. It was him who wanted me to be a botanist. _Shikamaru_ , he'd say, _you're too smart for a place like this._ I could only agree.

That was why, on this particular Tuesday, I turned our sign to OPEN and promptly opened my evolutionary biology textbook. My midterm was the next day and I had too many taxa to memorize. An easy task, but a time-consuming one. Thank god it was my mother's day off.

A shuffle from the stairs leading to our apartment above the shop signaled my father's arrival. He came from around the corner, piece of toast in hand.

"Morning, son," he mumbled through his toast.

"Hi, Dad," I replied, briefly lifting my head from the book.

"Studying?" he asked.

"Uh-huh."

Thinking that was the end of our conversation, I turned back to my book. My father finished his toast and poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot I had set on earlier.

"Listen," he said firmly, "I've got a ton of deliveries to attend to today, so I probably won't be in until later. I hate to ask since I know you're busy, but I need you to drop a bouquet off next door at some point," he said.

This got my attention.

"Next door? Why?" I asked, surprised. Though the space had been available for a long time, the shop next door was empty. Had been for years.

My father chuckled.

"Shows how much you go out the front door, kid. We have new neighbors."

I must have looked confused, because he laughed again.

"Don't worry about it too much, they finished construction very fast. It's a tattoo shop and they open today. Bring them the bouquet as a welcome to the neighborhood type of thing. I trust you to make it look nice."

I rolled my eyes and sighed.

"Okay, Dad, whatever you say."

He thanked me, finished his coffee, and walked out the door to the delivery car with a quick goodbye. The bell tinkled much more irritatingly than usual.

* * *

I shoved the bouquet and the new neighbors out of my mind for as long as possible. Compartmentalizing had always been a specialty of mine, and schoolwork came first. A few customers wandered in, browsed for a while, and left without saying thank you. One or two bought something, probably to apologize to their wronged wives. That's how business always is in the flower industry. My father used to say that he could feed his family on the dime of cheating assholes.

Around eleven, I couldn't put my father's request out of my mind anymore. With a heavy sigh, I closed my textbook. _What a drag_.

The most logical time to bring the flowers over would be at noon when we closed for lunch, as I couldn't just leave the shop unattended. I would run over, hand them the flowers, mumble some words of welcome, and go back to study and eat lunch with my mother. An annoyance, but it would be over quickly.

Glancing around the shop, I took stock of the flowers. The freesias were browning around the petals like someone held a match to them; the tulips drooped sadly towards the floor. Without thinking too much, I grabbed some purple hydrangeas and a few orchids, arranging them haphazardly in a crystal vase. Throwing in some white roses for contrast, I stepped back to view my handiwork.

"Good enough," I said to the air.

* * *

The sign was big and gaudy with stylized lettering that read _ONE TAILS TATTOO_. It stood in stark contrast with our small, clean _NARA FLOWERS_ sign, a disparity deepened by the shredding guitar coming from the tattoo parlour. I stood outside a moment, preparing myself for loud noises in a place that was nothing like the sky. Heaving a sigh, I opened the door.

I was greeted with a loud blast of cold air and a bored, gum-chewing teenager staring at me blankly. He had spiky brown hair and purple lines tattooed all over his face. _Weird._

I approached the counter, cradling the vase in the crook of my arm. The bored teen showed no interest in the stranger walking towards him, continuing to chew obnoxiously and flip through the magazine he was holding. I reached the counter and coughed softly.

"Do you have an appointment?" the teen asked in a monotone without looking up.

"Uh, no," I replied, uncomfortable, "I'm from next door. I brought you flowers."

The teen finally picked his head up to give me a confused look, then flashed to the vase I was holding. He raised his eyebrows.

"Next door. Nara Flowers. My dad's a florist and he sent these as a welcome gift. So, uh, welcome, I guess."

I placed the flowers on the counter with a harsh thunk. The teenager continued to stare at them for a moment, then turned around on his chair.

"TEMARI!"

Thinking about her name now sends echoes reverberating inside of me. At the time, however, all I wanted was to leave that shop and get back to my textbooks. I opened my mouth to say that I had better be going, that I didn't have time to meet anyone else, but before the words escaped my throat a woman emerged from behind a curtain in the back. Emerged is putting it lightly. She didn't simply walk out from the back, she _swirled_ , she _gusted_ , she _flew_ , all in a rapid succession that resembled a tornado. Not for the last time, I thought that she was like the wind.

As quickly as the maelstrom had started, it ended, and she was standing right in front of me, her hand on her hip.

"Who the hell are you?"

To say that she captivated me immediately would be a lie. Her gale-like display was, if anything, frightening; her eyes seemed alive with something otherworldly. Despite this, she had an aura of overwhelming indifference to the world around her, particularly to strange boys who bring flowers at lunchtime. I found her startling at best and dangerous at worst, writing her off almost immediately as a troublesome but uninteresting woman.

"Nara Shikamaru," I replied, making the boredom in my voice as evident as possible, "From Nara Flowers next door. My dad sent me with these."

I gestured at the flowers on the counter. Her face softened ever so slightly. She stared at the flowers for a long moment, then flicked her eyes up to meet mine.

"Tell me, Nara Shikamaru, what on Earth would possess you to bring flowers to a tattoo shop?"

Her question caused me to recoil slightly in shock. Troublesome, _irksome_ woman! Couldn't she just go doe-eyed and coo about how beautiful they were like a normal woman so I could go about my day? My eyes narrowed involuntarily.

"Listen, Toots, if you don't like them I'll just take them back," I responded, my words laden with venom.

At this, her eyes exploded with preternatural green flames. Her strong shoulders tensed and I watched with amusement as her anger crescendoed.

"Don't you EVER call me Toots again," she yelled with surprising ferocity. The sight was almost intimidating but mostly comical. I drank it in, this strange woman with her strange blonde pigtails fuming at me. She wore black jeans and a white Rolling Stones tank top, revealing the tattoos that crisscrossed down her arms. She was the artist, then. An artist with a bad temper at that.

"Excuse me," I apologized sarcastically, "Temari, was it? If my flowers offend you, I would be happy to take them back and sell them for actual money to someone who actually appreciates them."

She looked momentarily taken aback, the fire in her eyes dimming. Her rage

subsided all at once, much to my extreme confusion. Her eyes became warm and inviting, crinkling with her half-smile, and the angry red blush faded to a pleasant rosiness in her cheeks. She looked like an entirely different woman, a development that I found immensely perplexing.

"Thank you, Shikamaru," said Temari, smiling sweetly, "They are very lovely flowers."

Her voice was filled with either honey or with bees; which one it was, I couldn't tell. She moved the vase to the center of the desk and stuck out her hand. I took it without thinking. She smelled like daffodils.

"It was nice to meet you," she grinned, the picture of friendliness. I responded quickly

that it was nice to meet her as well, adding the same to the teenager at the desk.

"Call me Kankuro," he grunted.

I left the tattoo shop feeling flustered, the smell of daffodils on my hands.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

That evening, it rained like crazy. Each time lightning flashed or thunder rumbled, my father looked up from his dinner and smiled.

"Good," he muttered, "Thunderstorms are good for plants."

"Why?" I asked.

"It helps convert atmospheric nitrogen into nitric acid, which plants can use easier," I often forgot that my father was just as smart as, if not smarter than, me. Part of the reason he pushed me so hard to go to college was because he wanted a different life for me, what he thought was a better life. One where I wouldn't be confined to the four sunny walls of the flower shop, one where I could go far - one that he had been forced to give up. When my grandfather died, my father dropped out of school to take over the shop. He had been studying botany as well.

He continued eating with great gusto, chatting with my mother as he shoveled an impressive volume of rice into his mouth. I watched the spectacle with a mixture of vague horror and nausea.

"Shikamaru," he said, interrupting my trance, "how did the delivery go?"

"Fine," I replied with a shrug, "They're kinda weird. The younger one has purple tattoos all over his face and I'm pretty sure the artist is bipolar or something, but they seem alright."

"That's good," my father murmured, "What kind of flowers did you use?"

"Purple hydrangeas, orchids, and white roses for contrast."

"Smart."

He nodded his approval and let the subject drop, favoring his rice and tofu above conversation. My mother reprimanded him for eating too quickly, a rebuke which he ignored entirely. I looked down at my half-eaten rice with disinterest, wondering if I would get in more trouble for not finishing my dinner or for joining my father and wolfing it down at lightning speed. In the end, I chose the latter and gripped my chopsticks with firm resolve. Tipping back my bowl, I forced the food down my throat as though I had never eaten and would never be able to again, much to my mother's chagrin.

"What has gotten _into_ you two tonight?" she asked with exasperation, a horrified look on her face.

I slammed my empty bowl onto the table.

"May I be excused?"

* * *

The rain pelted my windows, making me wonder if a raindrop could ever fall with enough force to shatter glass. Looking away from the storm outside, I tried to focus on my biology textbook. The lamp on my desk reflected off the pages and made all of the colors seem like they could melt away at any time. My eyes drifted in and out of focus, blurring the ink even more. The rain was just so damn comforting.

My head dipped and I jolted awake with a start. I shook my head and turned off the lamp, deciding that getting some sleep would do me good. Taking down my ponytail, I climbed into bed and buried myself in blankets. My room was drafty.

Shadows bustled across my ceiling, looking almost as if they were in a hurry to be somewhere. I thought about shadow cities and what they would be like, what kind of jobs shadow people would be late for. How would public transportation operate? Would their currency be stable? Thoughts like this came to me when I looked at clouds as well, and any other time that I allowed my mind to wander freely.

I forced my thoughts back to evolutionary biology, struggling to review what I had studied that day. _Types of speciation, differences between plant types, taxa, so many taxa, too many taxa to bear right now, when the pillows are so soft and the bed is so warm…_

It was fruitless to try to review, exhaustion having made its home inside of me, and I gave up any attempt at coherent thought. My mind roamed freely again, thinking about shadow society and destructive rain drops and lightning flowers that grew in the dark.

But try as I might to think of other things, my brain kept returning to those four blonde pigtails bouncing in the wind.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The rain didn't stop for the rest of the week. It continued to pour down in sheets, like some deity was shaking out their linens after a wash. The weathermen warned of flash floods, but it didn't concern me; these things happen every now and then in Konoha, and besides, we lived on high ground.

It was Friday afternoon. Once again, I sat at the desk in my apron, bored out of my mind. People don't tend to buy a lot of flowers when it's raining, so there had been only three or four customers the entire day. I was going insane, especially since after my midterm on Wednesday (which I had aced, surprising no one) my workload had lightened significantly. I decided mid-morning to start the final paper for my creative writing class (though it was only October), and had been staring at a blank notebook ever since. Stupid gen ed requirements. I chewed my pencil thoughtfully, unsure of what to write. The assignment was to write a series of poems about our lives; the problem was that my life was entirely uninteresting. And I hated poetry. Why would I get emotional about a beam of sunshine falling on dirty pavement? The entire class was such a drag.

Sighing in frustration for the millionth time that day, I tapped the pencil against the desk and rested my chin on my hand. The rain made my eyelids feel heavy. I poured myself another cup of coffee and tipped it back like water, ignoring the burning in my throat. Goddamn, that coffee was strong. Wincing from the bitterness, I flicked on the radio; appropriately enough, the station was playing "The Ashes, The Rain, and I." It made me want to smoke. But smoking in the shop was forbidden, and I took my lunch break hours ago. The thought of a cigarette rolling between my fingers tormented me; I would just have to wait until we closed. A mild irritation. I gritted my teeth and counted the seconds between lightning flashes and thunder rumbles, trying to ignore the cigarettes dancing through my mind.

The door tinkled, interrupting my nicotine fantasies. Rolling my eyes as imperceptibly as possible, I called out a tired 'hello' and continued to stare at the ceiling.

"Why, good afternoon _Nara Shikamaru_."

That voice immediately jolted me back to reality. What was _she_ doing here? I looked to the doorway, and sure enough there stood a particularly troublesome-looking Temari. She wore a self-satisfied smirk in addition to her dark blue jeans and red flannel, a mischievous aura surrounding her. I didn't like the looks of this.

Temari sashayed slowly to the counter. Did she always move her hips like that when she walked? It looked inefficient, especially in terms of energy expenditure. _Someone's on the wrong side of evolution_ , I thought to myself.

It was taking her entirely too long to arrive at the counter, so I turned my attention to the computer at the desk, pointedly avoiding a glance at the woman approaching me. Even when she finally stood in front of me, I continued clicking on the computer, hoping I looked busy.

"A _hem_ ," Temari coughed.

"May I help you?" I asked, rolling my eyes up to hers at the very last syllable. She was clearly irritated by my bored drawl, but her devious smirk returned almost instantly.

"Those flowers that you gave me the other day were just _so nice_ ," she cooed, "that I wanted to thank you again."

I didn't believe a word.

"Shouldn't you be in your shop?" I asked, "You could have a walk-in at any time."

Much to my surprise, Temari let out a small laugh at this.

"You think I'm the only artist there? Please. Kankuro may be my store manager, but he's also my apprentice. Any walk-in, he can deal with just fine. Not like there'll be many walk-ins on a day like this."

I nodded my comprehension. "Well, if you just wanted to say thank you, then you're welcome." I turned my attention back to the computer screen.

Temari cackled again, this one almost witch-like.

"My _dear_ Shikamaru," she sang, continuing to punctuate her speech with seemingly random emphasis, "it isn't enough for me to simply thank you! I got you a thank-you _gift_!"

My eyes darted back to her, wide with confusion, just as she reached into her bag and pulled out a large object. She paused, relishing the moment and the apprehension apparent on my face.

Temari slammed the skull on the counter with a proud smirk.

"Since you seem to think that my being a woman means that I want a man to bring me flowers, I thought I'd bring you something a boy would like." Her voice was saturated with sarcasm as she leaned closer to me on the desk.

This move was clearly meant to intimidate me. I rolled my eyes internally. What did she want? _We're a flower shop. We bring people flowers_ , I thought, scowling. Swallowing my surprise and vague annoyance, I rearranged my face into the perfect picture of boredom and examined the skull with idle curiosity. It was a fairly large skull, with a spiderweb of cracks running along the top and a good deal of yellowing. The teeth were reasonably intact. I picked it up thoughtfully, feeling the weight in my hand.

"What kind of skull?" I asked, despite already knowing the answer.

Temari's smirk morphed into a sinister grin. "Human," she said with as much malice as she could muster. An attempt to scare me. I chuckled inwardly, never having been one so easily frightened.

"Interesting," I replied, turning the skull between my hands, "It's in pretty good shape. Do you know how old it is?"

At seeing my lack of fear, Temari became visibly agitated. Her grin vanished as though ripped from her face; her eyes lost the twinkle of mischief and turned to disbelief.

"Probably really old," she taunted, "They say the spirit of the man who the skull belonged to still dwells within."

"Cool, but this is a female skull."

Temari's eyes narrowed. "Any man who touches that skull dies."

"Cursed? My favorite."

"I'm glad," Temari snarled, turning her back to me abruptly. She stalked out of the store in a huff, her hips still swaying from side to side.

"Thank you!" I called after her jovially.

I congratulated myself on bruising her ego and picked up the skull again. It appeared to be authentic rather than cast in plaster, and authentic skulls don't come cheap. Maybe she had a friend in the taxidermy business. It was fascinating that this peculiar woman would spend such a great sum of money just to scare me.

I decided to name the skull Dahlia. That would drive Temari mad.

* * *

The campus of Konoha University is almost indistinguishable from any other college campus. It may be a little bit greener than other places, but the drafty buildings and shitty dining halls are exactly the same breed. It was the trees that attracted me to the campus: a diverse forest of cedar, oak, willow, maple, birch. Even I didn't know all of their names when I first arrived. Now, even the most obscure trees were familiar to me, and it was those that I made a point to sit under. Today, I had chosen a grove of witchhazel. The yellow flowers were just beginning to bloom, brightening the already sunny picture of autumn leaves against the sky.

My biology textbook open, once again, in my lap, I stared into the leaves. It occurred to me that the tree could be on fire and I wouldn't know it. In the early afternoon wind, the rich orange and yellow hues appeared to flicker and writhe while the branches crackled softly. I smiled. Most guys my age were off wooing girls, and here I was romancing a tree.

After the midterm, my biology class had gone from basic evolutionary devices into the horrifically boring history of evolution. Lecture, which before was at least of vague interest, had devolved into a mind-numbing drag of an hour which I dreaded from the time class was over until the time it began again. Luckily, my thrice-weekly purgatory was done for the day; unluckily, this meant that I would be there again in 48 short hours. I tried with varying degrees of frustration to struggle through the reading, but found myself constantly distracted by the smell of the witchhazel blooms. Sighing, I shut my book and leaned my head against the trunk. There was some time for a nap before my next class, and time that could be spent napping should never be wasted.

My illusion of quiet was shattered shortly thereafter.

"OI! NARA!" a blonde voice called. I sighed, looking up to see Uzumaki Naruto running towards me. Behind him were three of my other friends: Choji, Kiba, and Neji. Whatever they were planning, my nap prospects did not look good.

"Naruto, can't you see I'm trying to nap?" I retorted in displeasure.

"Oh come on, Shikamaru," said Naruto, smiling broadly, "It's too nice out to nap! We're going to Ichiraku for ramen, come with us!"

"I have class," I half-lied.

"Not for three hours," said Choji, on to my bluff.

"You guys are such a drag." I rolled my eyes in defeat and stood. Having friends often turned out to be incredibly inconvenient.

* * *

Ichiraku may have been a small joint, but it was a KU classic frequented by students and professors alike. Naruto, who would probably kill an entire village for a single bowl of ramen, dragged us there at least once a week. How I always managed to be roped in baffled me almost constantly.

We each ordered the barbecue pork ramen and sat at the bar. The others chatted idly while I listened with detached interest, sipping on my water. I only rarely contributed to these conversations, adding in my opinion only when I had something of worth to say. That was one key difference between me and my friends - they all seemed to enjoy the sound of their own voices, while I used mine sparingly.

Today, the conversation was, predictably, about girls they knew, specifically in terms of "fuckability." This term was coined by Naruto and my eyes rolled of their own volition every time it was said aloud. We were in public, for Christ's sake. Neji and I exchanged multiple exasperated glances while Kiba and Naruto shamelessly discussed breast shape.

"I'm telling you, Ino's tits are king," Kiba proclaimed loudly, "Have you seen them? They're the perfect size, not to big, not too small, and so damn ROUND. God was looking out for us when he made those, let me tell you."

"You say that like you've actually seen them," I retorted. Naruto snorted and Kiba gave me an angry glare.

"Sick burn Shikamaru!" I ignored his hand raised for a high five.

"Shut up, Shikamaru," Kiba growled, "Not like you have either."

As a matter of fact, I had seen Ino's breasts. On more than one occasion, in fact. They were the first pair I had seen when I was fifteen and had indeed been quite lovely, well-shaped with small rosy nipples. They filled my hands nicely and the experience was overall enjoyable, however short-lived. We were young, stupid, and curious, and those things don't last for long. I had never particularly liked Ino in the first place; in the end, she was nothing more than a warm body next to mine.

I smiled coyly at the memory nonetheless. "Of course I haven't."

Kiba and Naruto returned to their moronic conversation and I returned to tuning them out. The waiter came to refill my water glass. I thanked him without lifting my head.

"Nara, right?" the waiter asked.

I looked up in mild surprise. The waiter was neither short nor tall, with red hair and a strange tattoo on his forehead. His eyes were chillingly blue and appeared slightly unfocused, as though he was looking just barely behind you at all times.

"Yeah," I responded hesitantly, "Do I know you?"

"My name is Gaara. I'm in your biology recitation," he responded, "We are also neighbors."

Strange. I hadn't seen him around before. I didn't even remember him from recitation, but then I wasn't exactly famous for paying attention in recitation.

"Neighbors?"

"Yes," he responded, "I live above the tattoo shop. Temari and Kankuro are my sister and brother."

I hadn't realized that Temari and Kankuro were siblings; I assumed they just worked together. And apparently there was another one. How troublesome.

"I want to apologize for my sister's behavior towards you," Gaara continued. His voice was unbelievably calm, almost empty. "The flowers you brought were lovely and have really brightened our apartment. Thank you."

I chuckled. "I'm glad someone appreciates them, at least."

Gaara sighed.

"You've misunderstood my sister," he said, "as so many people do. It's not that she didn't _like_ the flowers. She did. She also thought it was sweet that you and your father wanted to welcome us to the neighborhood. It's a simple matter of image."

Image? "You've lost me," I said, confused.

"It's hard being a woman in the tattoo industry," Gaara responded, "That's why Temari wanted to open her own shop. Working for men was...difficult for her. They can be very degrading and often underestimated her ability. To be a female tattoo artist, Temari had to cultivate an image of toughness very carefully. Having flowers in her shop does not fit with that image."

"Is that why she gave me that so-called thank you gift as well?" I pondered.

Gaara looked befuddled. "Thank you gift?"

"Your sister came into my father's shop yesterday and slammed a human skull on my counter," I told him, "Not that I'm complaining. It's a nice skull."

He sighed again and shook his head.

"Again, I'm very sorry about her conduct. She likes to establish dominance."

What was she, a wolf? I must have looked taken aback because Gaara continued.

"You weren't intimidated by Temari. This baffled her. Everyone is intimidated by my sister, a fact of which she is quite proud. But not you. She's just trying to scare you, that's all."

The woman obviously had a screw or two loose. "That's weird, dude."

Gaara shrugged. "My sister likes to test people," he said simply. He walked away to clean up after a group of kids who had just left, leaving me to consider his words.

My friends still absorbed in their libidos, I took another sip of water and contemplated what Gaara had meant. _My sister likes to test people_. What exactly was she testing me on? Where did that need come from? What would happen if I failed her test, or worse, what would happen if I passed? The tattoo artist was becoming even more troublesome than I had originally imagined, a feat which I had not thought possible. I ate my ramen in silence, lost in my thoughts. I remained lost for the rest of the meal, through my class, and well into the evening.

For the second night in a row, I fell asleep thinking of Temari.


	5. Chapter 4

**AN: Thanks for all the support! Sorry I haven't updated in so long, I've been crazy busy. Hopefully chapter five will be up next week!**

Chapter 4

Since the skull incident, I had seen Temari sporadically at best. When we came downstairs to open our respective shops, when we locked up at night, returning from an occasional lunch outing - these were the brief moments when I sensed her presence next door, painfully aware of us breathing each other's air. Times like these left me with small glimpses of her green eyes or blonde hair, and as I began to piece together the puzzle of her appearance I decided that Temari was almost unfairly attractive; she had long, strong legs, an even tan, strong shoulders. There were fairer faces than hers, but the aloof indifference that she had adopted gave her an overall aura of toughness, heightening her generally pretty features to something that transcended physical beauty. And those goddamn cheekbones. The entire situation irritated me endlessly.

On rare days, Temari went outside to smoke when I had already lit one up. We would stand adjacent to each other in silence, pretending that the other person didn't exist, and poison our lungs with the disgusting chemical cocktail. Temari finished her cigarette before me without fail, meeting my eyes as she flicked away the ash. Her eyes seemed to lock on mine, her intense gaze unwavering; I, not one to be outdone, would refuse to look away. It was as if our eyes were tied together with a long bit of string. The staring contest ended only when Temari shut the door behind her, leaving me alone in the alley.

It would be entirely too easy to explain these moments as some sign of mutual attraction, in which the string between us was held taut with sexual tension, but the easy explanation is not always the correct one. Truth is, I did not like Temari, regardless of how drawn I was to her. I found her annoying, brash, mildly alarming, and, above all else, troublesome. Her existence was a persistent blip on the outer edges of my radar, the kind that you think might be a problem but is too far away to shoot. Our neighborly relationship was about dominance as in control as in alpha. One day it was bound to devolve into one of us lunging at the other's throat, teeth bared and veins throbbing. Like wolves, we would howl, snarl, snap. The only difference is that there were no packs. Only a lonely strip mall surrounded by magnolia trees.

The constant parade of Temari into and out of my line of vision suited me just fine. She was an annoyance, but an annoyance that hovered somewhere at the fringes of my life without any indication that it would budge. Neither of us made an attempt to speak to the other until the tail end of October.

The day was overcast but not rainy. The cold was not oppressive, but nipped at your skin just enough to remind you that the weather could only get worse from here. I walked out of the shop, a purple scarf wrapped loosely around my neck (made by my mother and worn at her insistence), and locked the door behind me. Much to my chagrin, I had once again been roped into getting ramen with Naruto and the others during my lunch break. Mentally preparing myself for the trivial conversations awaiting me, I turned around only to bump into a bored-looking Temari, a black beanie covering her four blonde pigtails and a stack of flyers clutched to her chest. I took a step back and she raised an eyebrow.

"Not even going to apologize, Nara Shikamaru?" she asked. Razor blades could have taken a lesson in sharpness from her tone. I rolled my eyes.

"I am terribly sorry, miss," I replied, "Generally speaking, I am much more conscious of irritating blonde women sneaking up behind me." To my surprise, she gave me a smug look. I held her gaze for a long moment, refusing to break eye contact.

"It is quite alright, sir," she mocked, "Generally speaking, I am much more careful to avoid sneaking up behind assholes with stupid spiky ponytails."

Unconsciously, my hand raised to my hair. She smirked, knowing that her words had affected me. Inwardly, I cursed. Troublesome woman. I said nothing and continued to look her in the eyes. Both of us had yet to blink.

The silence between us was electrically charged enough to power a floor lamp, the bolts that seemed to jump off of us nearly visible. The atmosphere shifted around us: the wind avoided blowing through our staring contest, the clouds darkened in a single spot. If it had been a cartoon, there would have been a tiny rainstorm just above our heads. And the woman still would not blink. My eyes began to burn, but I pushed the pain out of my mind. No way was I going to lose to her.

Temari continued to smile menacingly as she popped a stick of gum into her mouth. Did all of them chew gum? I wondered briefly if there was some familial significance. She blew a bubble and popped it loudly. She still did not blink.

My eyes were beginning to water. I battled it, hoping my tear ducts would suck the fluid back up. At the same time, I prayed for rain. Temari seemed to delight in my obvious struggle, the demon woman with her unbelievably durable eyes. The atmosphere between us shifted once again as she handed me a flyer from the stack she had been holding.

"$31 Halloween tattoos on the 31st," she said, breaking the long silence, "I would tell you to come get tatted up, but I somehow doubt a flower boy could handle the pain." She popped another bubble for emphasis, making me blink at last. She gave one more satisfied smirk, then turned around and walked back to her shop, hips swaying inefficiently the whole way.

I cursed myself, both for blinking and for being unable to look away.

When I finally arrived at Ichiraku, Naruto waved me over loudly.

"SHIKAMARU! WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?"

The entire restaurant turned to look at me. I shoved my hands in my pockets and rolled my eyes.

"I got held up at work."

I sat down beside Choji and ordered a bowl of barbecue pork ramen. After the initial greetings and what-the-hell-dudes, my friends went back to their original conversation. My mind wandered to the earlier encounter, the feeling of vague irritation still lingering.

"Shikamaru? Are you even listening?" Kiba asked indignantly. I lifted my head.

"Sorry. Lost in thought. What were you guys talking about?"

Kiba tutted in disapproval, used to my lack of attention. "We were just asking if you had any Halloween plans."

I considered for a moment, carefully weighing my options.

"You know," I began, "I think I'm going to get a tattoo."

* * *

After that single conversation, Temari began popping up everywhere. There were no more small glimpses of her face, no more silent cigarettes in the alley - every encounter now included words whispered with venom. When we opened our respective shops in the morning, she would wear large black sunglasses and loudly call "Morning, Shikamaru!" in a mocking tone. I would glare at her sideways and say nothing. Each of us would step into our shops, Temari smirking and me sighing. This was our routine.

Going out for a smoke was now something I dreaded, the thought of standing next to Temari for ten minutes not a pleasant one. It was almost enough to make me quit. Almost. Between the run-in on my way to lunch and Halloween, this situation occurred only once, and was every bit as uncomfortable as I expected. Temari seemed to enjoy my discomfort, and decided to stand much closer to me than she normally would. She did not speak, thankfully, but instead spent the break giving me coquettish looks and blowing smoke in my general direction. Rather than irritate me, she seemed intent on arousing me, in the process accomplishing both. During this time, I steadfastly refused to meet her gaze, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing my dilated pupils and knowing that her silly game was working. Eventually, I glared at her sideways, hoping my pupils were not too visible, at which she smiled, flicked away the ash, and sashayed into her shop. God, I could not stand that woman!

The day before Halloween, Temari showed her face in the flower shop once again. I could tell the tinkling of the door signaled her presence before I even saw her face, the environment of the shop becoming exponentially more irritating. I sighed heavily. I could tell this was going to be yet another troubling encounter, and all I wanted to do was work on my final paper for creative writing. The page remained blank after a month, and I was beginning to worry. Temari, however, had other plans.

I looked up as she approached the desk. She wore a long, black trenchcoat, reminding me briefly of a flasher. I swallowed hard and tried to erase the thought. As she had a few days before, she held a stack of flyers in her hands, which she placed on the desk with somewhat more force than was strictly necessary. Her hands continued to rest on the desk, and she stared at me with no visible emotion.

After a few moments of silence, I spoke.

"Good morning, ma'am, how may I help you?"

Temari's lips curled slightly. Whether out of bemusement or irritation, I couldn't tell.

"Well, my dear Shikamaru," she drawled, voice laden with sarcasm, "I was hoping that you could keep these flyers out here and hand them to your customers." Her voice was sweet, but her demeanor was vaguely aggressive; as always, her gaze never wandered from mine. I looked down at the stack of flyers, allowed my eyes to linger there, and then rolled them up to meet hers.

"And why on earth would I agree to that?" I asked, keeping my tone light and friendly. Her eyes narrowed and she shifted closer to me until her face was inches from mine.

"We're local businesses, Shikamaru," she said dangerously, "We should really support each other." I glared at her too-close face, opening my mouth for a devastating response, and my father chose just that moment to walk down the stairs. Temari straightened immediately and smiled at him.

"Good morning, Mr. Nara," she called with a wave. My father looked up from his coffee.

"Hey, Temari, good morning!" he responded, "And again, you can call me Shikaku."

Temari laughed and nodded. "I'll remember next time, Shikaku."

My father smiled as he sipped his coffee. I glared at him, annoyed. He hadn't told me that he and Temari had gotten so friendly. He raised an eyebrow at me but said nothing, turning his attention back to Temari.

"So, what brings you to our humble shop today?" he asked brightly. It took every ounce of my self control not to roll my eyes.

Temari smiled again. "I was just asking Shikamaru here if he would mind keeping these flyers on the counter," she said, "My shop is having a $31 tattoo special for Halloween and I wanted to get the word out."

My father looked at me and raised his eyebrows again. He looked back to Temari. "Well, sounds fine to me!" he said, setting his cup on the counter, "Local businesses have to support each other, after all."

Temari smirked. "I couldn't agree more, Shikaku."

My father picked his mug up again and clasped me on the shoulder. "Well, Shikamaru, you get these flyers set up. I'm off for the morning deliveries." He tipped back the coffee to drain the last few drops, set it on the counter, and patted me on the head. I grimaced. Waving to Temari, my father grabbed his car keys and walked out the door. Temari turned to me, a look of triumph on her face.

"Hear that Shikamaru?" she gloated, "Now how would your father feel if these flyers weren't here when he got back?"

The dam that had been holding back my temper broke all at once. I turned my head sharply towards Temari, rage written in my face.

"You know what you are, Temari?" I spat, "You're a weed. You pop up wherever you're not wanted and take up everything's air. Or even better, you're a morning glory. You come in here with your pretty face and your strong shoulders and your sweet, phony small talk, you fool everybody else into thinking you're this nice little flower, but not me. Morning glories look like flowers, but they're nothing except a fucking weed."

Temari looked momentarily taken aback by my outburst, then smiled dangerously.

"You keep thinking that if you want, sweetheart," she cooed, "Last time I checked, it's the weeds that outlive the flowers anyway." She patted my hand. I glared at her harshly, not moving my hand. She batted her eyelashes, taunting me.

"I'll leave those flyers here, then." She removed her hand from mine and walked slowly out of the store. I watched her the whole time, hating every atom that made her up.

That night, I left a morning glory outside her door.


	6. Chapter 5

**AN: Sorry, this took longer than expected. I suck a lot.**

Chapter 5

Halloween dawned bright and sunny, the chill of November hanging in the air like a weight. It was a Saturday, and the youth of Konoha celebrated accordingly. I had promised my parents to work a shift at the shop before I went out with my friends that evening, and the precession of children dressed as ghouls and fairies and ninjas seemed neverending. Their mothers held their hands and laughed and told me about how excited they were for trick-or-treating; I smiled at the right moments, remembering my days of dressing up and getting drunk on Halloween candy. _Now, I just get drunk_. I tried to decide whether or not this was a fair trade.

There was nothing that I particularly disliked about Halloween, but there was not anything that I particularly liked about it either. It was fun as a kid, pretending to be some horrifying monster and eating more sugar in one night than the rest of the year combined, but as I grew older it became just another social obligation forcing me to go to parties with my friends, dress in some vaguely amusing costume, and get drunk off my ass. The whole spectacle was, frankly, a bit of a hassle. I indulged it reluctantly.

Ergo, I was not exactly counting down the seconds until my shift was over and I had to meet my friends. Luckily, the shop was very busy and provided a nice distraction. I sold every orange flower known to man, I chatted idly with customers, I dutifully handed out Temari's flyers, trying not to look bitter as I did so. As the minutes ticked onwards, dread crept ever further into my mind. That evening was going to suck.

Much to my chagrin, my father returned from his deliveries earlier than I had expected, and promptly dismissed me to get ready for the evening. _Shit_. I had been planning to work late and show up to the party late, thereby spending as little time there as possible. I tried explaining this predicament to my father, but he would hear nothing of it.

"Shikamaru," he scolded, "go out and have fun for once. Don't squander your youth in this shop."

A sad, distant look came into his eyes; there could be no further argument. Dragging my feet, I plodded upstairs to my room.

Once I got there, I flicked on the light and immediately flopped on my bed. The ceiling was still covered with stick-on stars that glowed in the dark, remnants of my childhood fascination with space. I had carefully mapped out the constellations, ensuring that my scale was correct and everything was in its proper place. Though I never would have admitted it, gazing up at my tiny sky always brought me comfort. I stared hard at Delphinus and tried to convince myself to stand up and put on my costume. _Ugh._

Several minutes passed. I sighed and opened my eyes, throwing my legs reluctantly over the side of the bed. Sitting up, I looked out the window to see a line of people stretching down the block for Temari's shop. I scowled. Her success irritated me more than I meant it to.

Rising slowly to my feet, I grabbed the costume strewn haphazardly across my desk chair. I pulled on my black jeans, which were much tighter than I would wear for most occasions, and dark green shirt patterned with vines; using a makeup kit given to me by Naruto, I made dark circles around my eyes. I put on brown motorcycle boots as the final piece, then looked in the mirror. _Good enough_ , I thought to myself. Just then, the doorbell rang. Grabbing my wallet and phone, I meandered down the stairs, not feeling any need to rush.

I walked outside into the darkened alleyway, where my gaggle of friends was waiting. They were all shouting and laughing, clearly having had a few drinks already. Looking to see who had shown up, I noticed that Naruto was antsy as usual, his arm slung drunkenly across Hinata's shoulders. Sasuke was there, quietly observing the spectacle with his arm around Sakura's waist, while Kiba was saying something to make Choji and Tenten laugh; Neji looked on in disapproval. Ino's arm was looped through Sakura's, and the two giggled together. I shook my head and waved, calling out a greeting.

"About goddamn time, Shikamaru," Naruto grumbled.

"You interrupted me while I was doing my beautiful makeup," I smirked. Naruto laughed obnoxiously.

"What are you supposed to be anyway?" asked Sasuke in a bored drawl. I grinned again.

"Poison ivy, of course." I looked at my friends, trying to determine what each of them were. Naruto was a vampire with a long, black cape and plastic fangs, his arm around Hinata as a rabbit; Kiba was a werewolf, surprising no one. There was Choji dressed as a Viking and Neji as Frankenstein's monster. Beside him, Tenten wore traditional geisha attire. Sakura had opted, predictably, for a sexy nurse getup, while Sasuke was simply wearing slightly more black than usual ("His face is scary enough as is," said Naruto). My eyes rested on Ino last. She looked lovely in her Roman soldier costume, the low-cut dress accentuating her ample breasts. Gladiator sandals laced up her legs and drew even more attention to the shortness of the outfit. Her long blonde hair was clipped half up, spilling over her shoulders in waves. I felt my eyebrows raise involuntarily, remembering the way her breasts had felt cradled in my teenaged hands. She caught my eye and smiled knowingly. My penis twinged slightly in response.

We began to walk towards campus, knowing we would find parties all over in that area. As we walked, the others stumbled and shouted and joked, guffawing all the way. I smiled, happy that I had not joined them to pregame. The spectacle was fun to watch.

The first party we went to was at Naruto's fraternity house. His brothers greeted us all like heroes as we walked in the doors, thumping Naruto roughly on the back and cheering loudly. Sasuke held Sakura closer protectively, while Neji maintained an iron grip on Tenten's hand. Ino, however, giggled as one of the brothers led her into the party. I felt a slight stab of jealousy and ignored it.

The music reverberated through my nervous system as we walked into the crowd of people. Kiba, a step ahead of the rest of us, threw his arm around my shoulders and shoved a beer in my hand.

"DRINK UP AMIGO!" he howled, tipping back his own drink. I copied him, letting the alcohol slide down my throat. Warmth spread through my body as I finished the can, crushing it against my leg. Kiba pounded me on the chest, whooping wildly.

"MY MAN SHIKAMARU RIGHT HERE!" he cried to nobody in particular. The people around us cheered, and I raised my arm in victory. At this moment, Naruto showed up with several more cans of beer, which the three of us promptly chugged. Naruto and Kiba were laughing loudly about something when I felt someone grab my arm. I turned to see Choji, who was intent on dragging me to the beer pong table.

Choji had always been my preferred beer pong partner. Together, the two of us were unstoppable. We were an unlikely-looking duo, which meant that nobody expected us to be any good; our victories crept up behind the adversary and smothered them with chloroform.

This party was no different. After three victories, Choji and I were high-fiving furiously and calling out to the room in search of any more challengers. Two more teams dared to face us; neither were successful. Drunk on victory and cheap beer, we took to the dance floor in search of our friends.

At this point, I was very drunk. My motor skills were beginning to deteriorate, and my judgement had long since left the building. We found our group, with one or two additions of Naruto's frat brothers, dancing near the center of the room. Even drunk as I was, I was not much one for dancing. I swayed mindlessly to the beat of the music, lost in the energy of the room. Absently, I noted that Ino was looking in my direction despite the frat brother dancing with his hands on her hips.

She noticed me noticing her and smiled, shoving away the brother's hands. He drew back, offended, and walked away, probably in search of more beer. Ino made her way over to me, moving in time with the music. She put her hands on my shoulders and pressed her body against mine. As she danced against me, I could feel every one of her many curves. I placed my hands on the small of her back, pulling her closer to me. Her breathing on my neck was warm and heavy, and I felt my erection beginning. Ino smirked wickedly, then started to rub me through my pants. I continued to harden and grow, my breath becoming heavier and heavier. Abruptly, I thought of Temari.

The thought snapped me out of my trance. _Fuck._ I had to get a tattoo. She didn't think I would, so I had to.

"What time is it?" I asked Ino more harshly than I intended. She looked surprised, but checked her phone anyway.

"It's 11:08. Why?"

I dropped my hands from her back. "I need to go," I slurred, walking quickly away.

"Shikamaru-"

Ino held onto my hand, dropping it when I didn't stop. I stumbled through the house, my drunken mind capable of only one thought. I had to get to Temari's shop, and the walk took at least 30 minutes, more like 40 in my state. I shoved through the crowd as quickly as I could, relief flooding me when I finally walked through the door.

The night air was bracing, but felt good against my sweaty face. After a moment, though, I wished I had brought a jacket. The walk home was long and the wind harsher than it had been. Crossing my arms against the cold, I continued walking as fast as I could.

By the time I stood outside Temari's shop, my face was red and raw from the wind, my arms lined with goosebumps. I checked my phone. 11:52. _Good._

I opened the door, the warm air flowing over me like a tropical wave. The shop was empty except for one lonely blonde figure, cleaning up her work station. She did not appear to have heard me come in.

"G..Good evening, you cranky little mouse," I stuttered loudly. Temari turned her head to me, a confused look on her face.

"You didn't think I'd show up," I continued, "and yet here I am. Do your worst, woman."

Temari rolled her eyes. "Nara, you're drunk."

"Indeed I am," I replied, "Inkify me."

She walked towards the front desk, which I promptly leaned against. "Shikamaru, I can't tattoo you like this. I don't want you to blame me for any poor choices you make."

"Doesn't matter. Do whatever you want. Have your way with me," I said, winking.

Anger flashed momentarily in her eyes, then gave way to a smirk. "Alright. Just give me a few minutes to draw something up."

Obediently, I flopped down on a chair near the front desk. Temari walked to a desk in the back, then began sketching feverishly. There was immense concentration in her face, her lips drawn in a taut line. I lounged lazily on the chair, watching her work. There was something very sensual about the way she drew, as though I was a slightly unwelcome guest observing her private universe.

After about twenty minutes, Temari came back to me, a stencil clutched in her hand.

"To be clear, you don't give a shit what I put on you, right?"

"Not in the slightest," I replied. She smiled again.

"Then let's get you started."

Temari led me over to a padded black chair, a floor lamp poised above it. She directed me to sit down, then began preparing her equipment. After everything was satisfactorily wrapped in plastic, she asked if the arm was alright for placement. I nodded my approval, and she carefully applied the stencil.

Temari hesitated for a moment. "Are you sure you don't want to check it out in the mirror or anything?" she asked, her instincts as a tattoo artist beating out her dislike of me.

"Absolutely sure," I responded smugly. Temari shrugged her shoulders as if saying _At least I asked_ , then began working on the tattoo. The sensation was like nothing I had felt before, like my arm was falling asleep in a very specific area. Temari's blonde pigtails glinted in the light of the lamp. Unlike Ino, her hair was the color of gold rather than moonlight. This close, the smell of daffodils was almost overwhelming.

In my drunken stupor, I lost track of time. I was vaguely aware of the night moving forward, but most of my attention was focused on Temari. I was hyperaware of her hands on me, even though they were covered with gloves. The same look of concentration was on her face. Her eyes seemed to glow with it, to bathe my arm in their light. We didn't speak at all, the tension between us palpable.

It must have been hours before Temari rinsed the tattoo off for the last time, but I didn't notice at all. By then, I had sobered up a fair amount, at least enough to wonder what the hell I had just done.

"Alright, now go check it out in the mirror," Temari said when she had finished cleaning it up.

I stood shakily and walked over to the mirror, apprehensive as to what I might see staring back at me. I looked up and widened my eyes at what I saw.

There on my arm was a skull with two purple morning glories for eyes.

The piece was, admittedly, quite beautifully drawn, but I could scarcely believe she had had the balls to do it. I turned to Temari and saw a wicked smile painted on her face. I stared at her in shock, my brain unable to form words.

"Now you have some weeds you can never get rid of," Temari said, her sweet tone dripping with venom. Her smile widened, her eyes glowing with mischief. She got up from her chair and walked over to me, wrapping my arm in a paper towel and taping it. I glared at her, stepping closer.

I leaned down. "Now I'll always remember that some weeds look like flowers," I whispered dangerously. Temari bit her lip and grinned again.

"If they look like flowers, then who the fuck cares?" she said, stepping even closer. She looked me dead in the eyes and did not look away.

"I care," I said, not dropping my gaze, "Weeds ruin gardens."

"Oh yeah?" she asked.

I didn't answer.

"Then tell me, Shikamaru, what exactly is it that you think I'm ruining?" She closed the distance between us, her breasts against my chest. I exhaled sharply.

"Everything."

She laughed and I pressed my lips roughly against hers, surprising myself. I was even more surprised when she responded enthusiastically, pressing herself against me with equal force. My hands explored the nooks and crannies of her body, savoring the feeling of her curves. Her hands were softer than I expected on the back of my neck, and they slowly made their way into my hair.

I pulled away slightly, sighing.

"What the fuck are we doing, Temari?" She grinned maliciously and traced my spine with her fingers.

"What do you say we take this upstairs?" she asked in a low voice.

I raised my eyebrows and she kissed me again, swirling her tongue around mine. She grabbed my hand and pulled away, leading me towards the stairs.

"What about your brothers?" I asked.

"They aren't coming home tonight," she said. In a daze, I allowed her to drag me up the stairs, lacing my hands around her waist. I kissed her neck as she unlocked the door to the apartment, making her giggle. It was a sound I hadn't heard from Temari before; I wanted to hear it a billion more times. She opened the door and turned to face me, kissing me even more deeply than before.

Temari began moving backwards, clearly in the direction of her bedroom. Her hands had begun to wander around my chest and stomach, sketching the outlines of my muscles. We backed into her open bedroom, faces still locked together. I pulled back slightly to rip off my shirt. Temari smiled and continued feeling my stomach, slowly making her way to the line of my pants. My dick had been rock hard for some time now, and she rubbed it through my pants. I moaned slightly.

Temari took that moment to peel away her shirt, revealing her black bra. Grinning widely, I pulled her body close to mine again, feeling the curve of her back. Slowly, I undid the hooks. She let the garment fall away, her breasts falling softly against her skin. They were not especially large, but were very well-shaped, with the most perfect nipples I had ever seen. I took them in my hands and teased them. Temari moaned. I kissed along her collarbone as she undid my belt, unbuttoning my pants while she was at it.

I decided at this moment to take charge and shoved Temari gently towards the bed. She fell onto it obediently. I crawled on top of her, kissing her mouth first and working my way down. I kissed, licked, and nipped her neck, her chest; I paused at the nipples, sucking on them until they stood at attention. This elicited another series of moans from Temari, making my dick grow harder still. I rubbed it against her as I continued licking down her stomach. She squealed when I darted my tongue briefly into her bellybutton. I grinned, unbuttoning her pants and sliding them off, then doing the same with her panties and discarding them over the side of the bed. Gently parting her knees, I shoved my face between her thighs, licking and sucking until she moaned loudly. She ran her fingers through my hair and ripped away the hair tie. My hair fell about my shoulders, and she gripped it roughly as she arched her back. Slowly, I crawled to her face and kissed her again.

Temari pivoted so that she was sitting essentially on top of me. She jerked my pants down as far as she could, an obvious signal for me to take them off. I willingly obliged, ripping away my boxers as well. As she kissed me, she rested one hand on my neck and the other on my penis, slowly moving her hand up and down my length. I groaned softly, the delicious electricity flowing through me. Her hand moved faster and faster as the kiss deepened, and my breath became shallow. Sensing I was close, she removed her hand and instead took me in her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip. She moved in quick, soft strokes, slowly taking me deeper into her mouth. I gasped. I was unsure how much longer I could hold off, especially when she began playing with my balls as she moved up and down.

"Jesus Christ, Temari," I groaned.

Giving me an evil grin, Temari moved back to my mouth. My breathing still ragged, I kissed her with somewhat more desperation than before, moving my hand downwards and rubbing her slowly.

At this, Temari laid back on the bed, pulling me on top of her. She moved back from the kiss and ran her fingers through my hair, looking me in the eyes as always. I continued rubbing her, making her shiver. I sped up and she gasped sharply,

"Shikamaru," she breathed, "Please just fuck me as hard as you can."

I slipped on a condom as quickly as I could. And then I was inside her, and hell, it was bliss. I moved in time with my heart beat, enjoying the feeling of her fingers clawing at my back. At each thrust, she inhaled sharply.

As I got into the rhythm, I began moving faster, making her moan. Her moans grew louder as my thrusts grew faster, and I felt myself nearing my peak. I put all of my concentration into holding on just a little longer, relieved when I felt her spasming. I came and she followed immediately after. I fell onto the bed beside her, both of us breathing heavily. She looked at me and smiled sensually; I returned it.

"Well," I said, "Now you're going to be a very difficult weed to get rid of."

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when I woke. Temari was sleeping soundly next to me, her naked shoulders rising and falling gently. I watched her for a few minutes, enjoying the soft sound of her breath. Inspiration struck me suddenly. For the first time in my life, I actually felt like writing a poem. I looked at the dawn just beginning to stream through the windows, at the way her hair looked in the early hours of the morning. I looked away and began to write.

 _Haiku #1_

 _a morning glory,_

 _a flower, a weed. we fucked_

 _in empty houses._


End file.
